The butterfly effect. Again…

There are an infinite number of possible paths that may have led to every moment in your life but they all somehow get to the same point. Much like how you always end up with a jumbo set of neon coloured freezer bag clips in your man bag whenever you come home from Ikea no matter which convoluted path round the big blue and yellow shop you take. Some call this fate or destiny some dwell upon the mysteries of Karma others just call it dumb fucking luck. Continue reading “The butterfly effect. Again…”

Andy Irons I surf because…

I was inexplicably moved by the death of Andy Irons yesterday. Not so much by the actual event (I’ve never actually met him) but by the tragic irony of his return to form and final happiness after years of self torment. This was compounded by a wave of compassion and condolence that spread across the internet finally filling my news feed almost completely by mid morning today.

Rest in peace Andy Irons, my best wishes to your wife and family…

Papersurfer the movie?

One midsummer day I was leaning into an involved conversation with an abstract artist (of moderate fame) who, for no apparent reason, said to me in an intriguing manner…

“…you should write a book…”

The conversation was slightly fuelled by a prelunch intake of cold refreshing cider in an ancient, smoke filled country pub. So I completely ignored him and continued to pursue my line of questioning about how many pounds (sterling) per square meter he earned for his ‘artwork’. The answer (ascertained after some dubious bar napkin mathematics) was quite impressive even at that early stage of his career.

This conversation was held over 20 years ago and I’ve often returned to it in my mind. Not because I have a burning desire to communicate with the universe through the medium of the written word but because a man who hardly knew me felt he could judge my ability to put pen to paper after a few moments of listening to me rant about random nothingnesses.

He was (and still is) completely mad. But he was right about one thing; I should have written a book.

And as it happens – I have…

You can buy it by clicking here.

I didn’t surf today. I was too busy reading my new book.

(Film rights are still negotiable at this point)

In the mist…

in the mist (molho leste)

…it’s been several weeks since I made it into the sea. My last visit to the Peniche peninsula was somewhat hampered by cranial mucous infestations so I was relegated to photographer on this obscenely offshore day at Molho Leste.

I miss surfing when I’m landlocked. I miss the connection with the sea. I miss the water on my body. I miss that magical moment when your board sweeps perfectly to the lip of the wave just as it’s pitching over and the power drives up through your legs and body and gets transferred into speed, movement and adrenalin. I even miss that moment when you push a rail too hard, your fins lose their grip  and the sea claims another wipeout victory…

I didn’t surf today – but I did think about it when the brain weevils weren’t eating my head too loudly…

Apparently Jesus was a surfer…

…the evidence is out there – you just have to look for it.

The long flowing locks and irreverant attitude…

The love of seafood and a drop of vinho tinto or two…

I’m thinking the whole Joseph/carpentry thing was slightly misleading – dovetails shmovetails – he was shaping custom longboards for the Galilee massive.

Don’t even get me started on the whole walking on water nonsense – he was quite obviously a noseriding genius.

I didn’t surf today. I was too busy building a lightning rod…